


Hell's Lottery, Indeed

by ThroughTheTulips



Series: SPN Season 10 Choose Our Own Adventure Series [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Hellatus Funtimes, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 04:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips/pseuds/ThroughTheTulips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's decision to detour by the bunker has an unexpected outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell's Lottery, Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working around to Destiel, as requested on the poll. The bunker surprise is from the same poll. You're all very welcome... and also thanks, because I wanted this to happen too.

Last post’s dilemma: Which route should Sam take?

Tumblr chose: Stop by the bunker then take I-70 from there.

*******

            It was Bobby who decided the matter. Not Bobby himself; the old hunter had jammed his hat over his eyes and fallen asleep in the backseat. It was the realization that Bobby was recently back from the dead and had no duffel in the trunk. He didn’t even have any ID, real or fake. Sam remembered seeing a few in his stuff at the bunker, so he headed towards Lebanon. An hour wasn’t much to make up on such a long trip.

            Bobby was still sleeping when they pulled into the bunker’s garage. Sam reached back to nudge him. “Hey, we’re here.”

            “What, already?” Bobby sat up. “This that fancy bunker your granddaddy left you? You never said it came with motorcycles. Why’d you steal the car?”

            “Most of them need work to get running again. Dean was working on it before-” Sam cleared his throat and got out, stretching. “Anyway. I thought we should get a bag packed for you. Your clothing is mostly in one box, though I think your wallet is in Dean’s dresser.”

            Bobby gave him a fond, exasperated look. “You idjits kept all that crap?”

            Sam jammed his hands in his pockets, a smile teasing at his lips. “I guess we weren’t ready to let go yet.” He found the key and went to unlock the door, saying over his shoulder, “We shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to pack and make some sandwiches or something. This stop already puts us behind schedule.”

            He hadn’t turned all the way back before a jet of water smacked into his face.

            Reflex had him drawing before he could see clearly again, muzzle rising to point unerringly at the source of the water, but a familiar voice made him stop. “Slow your roll, I was just checking.”

            Not possible. It just wasn’t possible. Sam kept his eyes closed. “Cas. What.”

            “I told you about this,” Castiel sounded puzzled. “Hannah has him working on decoding the angel tablet.”

            “You didn’t say he was _alive_.” Sam opened his eyes to study Kevin, but his first impression was correct. Kevin Tran stood in the doorway, wearing Dean’s Batman bathrobe with a supersoaker dangling at his side. His cheeks had color, his hair was wet, and he wasn’t flickering in and out. “How are you alive?”

            Kevin grinned widely. “You didn’t think I was getting back into the prophet business for free, did you? I told Hannah I could only translate from this side.”

            _Hell’s lottery_ , Sam thought again, dazed. His throat felt thick, so he bent over to pull the prophet into a bear hug. “Kevin, I’m-”

            “No, nope, no way,” Kevin interrupted, squeezing back. “I told you, no Winchester angst. That whole mess is the actual definition of ‘not your fault’, got it? If you really feel sorry you won’t finish that sentence.”

            Laughing felt strange when he hadn’t in so long, but since yesterday it kept sneaking up on him.  He shook his head and stepped inside. “Sometime somebody is going to have to let me apologize for something.”

            “When it’s actually your fault I’ll be the first one waiting to hear it,” Bobby said. “I’m sure it’s coming, so hold your horses. You’re the new prophet, then?”

            Kevin moved to let them inside. “Uh, new to you, I guess. It’s been a couple years to me.”

            “Bobby Singer. Nice to meet a prophet who doesn’t look like he spent the last ten years in a bottle. Same fashion sense, though.”

            The younger man flushed, tightening his belt. “I was in the shower when the door alarm went off. This was the only thing I could find.”

            “How are you even in here?” Sam asked. He checked the wards. They seemed intact, better even. “Did you update these?”

            “I took a break from the tablet. Mom made me promise not to overdo it, so I spent some time redrawing everything. Cas is the only angel allowed in here right now. As to how I got in, well.” Kevin shrugged. “I woke up where I was killed. Hannah freaked a little when she couldn’t find me, but I left her a cell phone. It’s safer this way.”

            Sam squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks. Really, thanks.”

            “Sam.” Castiel came down the hallway, a duffel bag in one hand. “I have gathered all of Bobby’s clothing and wallet. Should I also pack food while you visit?”

            “We just got here,” the hunter said in surprise.

            Bobby took the duffel bag. “Aren’t you the one who just gave us the ‘ten minutes to stretch our legs’ talk?”

            “I understand your desire to ‘fix me’ before we help Dean,” Castiel said stiffly. “But Dean is still _my_ priority. We need to get this done and get back to curing him.”

            Kevin was already nodding. “Right, yeah, you’re draining that other angel’s grace, right? Hannah told me. She’s got me looking for something to puts yours back together after I’m done with the emergency stuff.”

            “It is not-”

            “We get it, you’re a martyr,” Bobby said, exasperated. “You and Dean can start an ‘I Hate Me’ club later, kid. Just give us ten minutes, we’ll be back on the road.”

            It was more like thirty minutes. Linda Tran showed up with a load of groceries and insisted on putting together a cooler, scolding Sam for his weight loss and complaining about the outdated state of the bunker’s kitchen. She had some additions to the Lincoln’s kit, too: salt-filled hoops of aquarium tubing, a tackle box full of different kinds of ammunition she’d found in the storeroom, and a gallon-sized jug of holy oil. “In case that angel you’re meeting isn’t as friendly as he says,” she said darkly.

            “Missouri is a psychic,” Sam reassured her. “She’d know if he weren’t trustworthy, even if she can’t read his whole mind.”

            Linda didn’t look impressed. “I’ve learned that no one is completely trustworthy. Not even my son, who didn’t tell me he was alive for nearly two days.”

            Kevin’s shoulders hunched. “I told you, I had to find your phone number. You changed it a million times, remember? It literally took an act of heaven to find you and they can’t fly yet.”

            “Details.” She thrust a large cooler at Sam. “We’re staying here. It’s safest.”

            “No problems,” the hunter said at once. “None at all. Uh, if Dean comes back… call me before you let him in?”

            Linda looked confused, but Kevin nodded understanding. “Got it. Kevin Solo’s manning the phones if you need back-up.”

            That made Sam smile. He loaded the cooler in the backseat and hugged the Trans again. “Take care of the place, okay? We’ll keep you updated.”

            “Hannah will probably tell them if we die,” Castiel said from the passenger’s seat, where he’d been waiting. “Are we ready?”

            Sam bit back a sarcastic remark. He knew his friend was just worried about Dean. They all were, but when it came to Cas and Dean- well. Whatever their “profound bond” actually meant, they didn’t have the best track record of sense when it came to the other being in trouble. Castiel agreeing to let them drain his grace first was a huge concession. Sam didn’t want to push his luck. He waved and slid behind the wheel, gearing up for another long drive.

            In deference to Cas’s impatience dinner was a trip to a McDonald’s drive-thru in Denver. Bobby put his foot down in Grand Junction. “You got time, son, and I’m too old to sleep in the back of a car,” he grumbled. “We’re taking eight hours for sleep and showers.”

            “Dean told me humans only require four hours of sleep.”

            “Dean runs on alcohol and sarcasm when he’s hunting,” Sam said, pulling into the parking lot of the El Palomino Motel. “Don’t you remember being human? Going without sleep dulls your reflexes and makes you sloppy We’ll split the difference and say six hours, okay?” Though neither of his passengers were happy about it, they both agreed. Sam took the victory and headed into the office.

            The desk clerk, a skinny teenager with a mop of bushy brown hair, looked up at his entrance. Her eyes widened. One hand snuck up to smooth her hair, and she smiled brightly. “Hello! Welcome to the El Palomino! I’m Lexi!”

            So many exclamation points so late at night made Sam’s head hurt. He forced a return smile. “Hi. Do you have any doubles available?”

            “Sure do!” Lexi chirped. She hefted a manual register onto the counter. “Our computer’s down, sorry, but we can still take cards. I just have to scan the imprint, and you’ll need to sign here.”

            He filled in the register where she indicated, sorting out cash to cover the night’s charges. She was digging in a drawer for the key when to door swung open behind them. A middle-aged woman in pajamas stormed in and pushed past Sam to the counter. “The lights are flickering again,” she shouted. “The damned TV won’t stay on one channel and the air conditioner has it like a freezer in there. I’m trying to watch the World Cup!”

            “I’m sorry, Mrs. Brooks,” the desk clerk said earnestly. “I don’t know what else to try. Every time you’ve come up I check and everything works fine for me.”

            “Are you calling me a liar?”

            Sam watches the argument, thinking hard. This was probably nothing. Small motels like this had faulty wiring all the time. He was probably over-sensitized to the supernatural. Then again, this was starting to sound like a haunting. Ghosts weren’t usually much trouble to seasoned hunters but they could cause a lot of trouble for normal folks. Things tended to escalate from flickering lights to more violent activity.

            Cas was running short of time and patience, though. If this was bigger than it looked he might get sick, or refuse to meet his brother in California.

            Should Sam try to investigate the motel?

            1) No way. If this has been going on for a while some local hunter will be along soon. They have bigger fish to fry.

            2) No. He can call Garth and put someone else on the haunting. There’s probably no harm in letting it wait a few days if it’s just flickering lights.

            3) Yes. Annoying as this is, hunting is their job. If he leaves this and innocent people are hurt or scared that’s on his conscience, and he doesn’t need more on his conscience. Sam should question the desk clerk about the room.

            4) Yes, but there’s no sense in being overt about it. Sam should get the EMF reader from the trunk and wander by the room in question, maybe try to get inside. If there’s a spirit there he can do some research into the motel while Bobby showers.

            5) Something else (be specific)

             

**Author's Note:**

> Voting is still live! You can vote here https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1xRL-rlAe9_mhEzBTLAUd0kiS7jGAAzbhyOKsaM6lI-g/viewform?usp=send_form


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